


We'll always have Paris

by AdamHunt



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John is excited, M/M, Mycroft's doing, Paris - Freeform, Sherlock is very...nice, This is pure fluff, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:23:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamHunt/pseuds/AdamHunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes up in the morning alone in their bed. Sherlock is no where to be found, but he has left a rather curious note.</p><p> </p><p>This is fluff and more fluff. I don't even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll always have Paris

John woke to a light breeze on his face and the sounds of London life coming in through the window. Sighing, he reached over to the other side of the bed, feeling for his partner. Seeing that he was indeed alone, John opened his eyes and sat up, groggily letting his eyes adjust to the morning sun. He ran a hand through his hair and was about to swing his legs over the side of the bed and get up to make his morning cuppa when his eyes landed on an envelope, resting on Sherlock’s pillow. Raising an eyebrow and sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached over and picked up the envelope, opening it and taking out its contents. 

_“My John,_  
(John smiled, he loved when Sherlock called him his)  
 _As you can see, I am not currently in the flat. I have some things to take care of today and I didn’t want to wake you as you looked so peaceful. If I calculated correctly it should be about 11 in the morning by the time you read this, which should give you ample time to pack._

_Meet me in Paris._

_SH”_

John furrowed his brow and picked the envelope back up, discovering that there was actually a train ticket inside. ‘What is he playing at....’ he thought to himself before getting up and going for a shower.  
\------------

6 hours later, John found himself stepping off the train in Paris’ Gare de Lyon. With his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, he began to make his way out of the station when he was stopped by a young man. The man said nothing, just handed John another plain white envelope, offered him a small smile and then walked away. John quickly opened the envelope and took out the letter that was inside.

_“My John,_

_So glad you could make it, welcome to Paris. I hope your train ride was enjoyable, I made sure they had those pastries you like on hand. (John gave a small chuckle) If you walk out to the front of the station, there is a man standing in front of a small blue car. His name is Etien, he will take you to the hotel. He doesn’t speak nor does he understand English, so don’t try and converse with him. Don’t worry about tipping him either, I’ve taken care of it. Once you arrive at the Champs-Élysées Plaza Hotel, don’t worry about speaking to reception, they know you’re arriving. Go straight to the lifts on the left side and take one to the 24th floor. When you walk out of the lift, turn left and go down the hall until you see 2401. The door should be open and resting on the deadbolt._

_SH”_

John smirked at Sherlock’s directions, shaking his head and slipping the envelope and the note into the side compartment of his bag. Being careful to dodge the many people running for the next train, he found his way outside and spotted the blue car, making his way over and nodding at Etien before climbing in the backseat. The ride to the hotel was quiet except for the soft music that Etien had playing on the radio, and John allowed himself to relax and take in the sights of the city as they passed him by. He was still confused as to what he was doing there, it wasn’t like Sherlock to be any amount of sentimental...ever, so this was definitely an odd experience. He wondered if this was a case and if Sherlock needed his help in someway- he packed his gun in his overnight bag as a precaution. 

20 minutes later, John climbed out of the car and walked around to the front, giving Etien a handshake and a smile before walking into the (incredibly expensive looking) hotel. Walking into the lobby, John’s mouth dropped open a little as he looked around and took in the sheer beauty of the building. Fountains and grand chandeliers could be seen everywhere as well as white marble statues and gold accents on the walls and ceilings. It looked more like a palace than a hotel. ..Sherlock was definitely up to something. Seeing the lifts, John quickly walked over to them and got in, following Sherlock’s directions and taking it to the 24th floor. He got out at his stop and walked down the hallway, half expecting the man himself to pop out of one of the ridiculously over groomed ferns that lined to hallway and scare him. Reaching his door and seeing that it was, in fact, held open by the deadbolt, he carefully pushed the door knob in and made his way into the room, once again hit with the sheer (ridiculous) beauty of the hotel. The suite was gorgeous, there was a bar on the far left wall, a roaring fireplace across from it, and in the middle an enormous king-sized bed with a white sheer canopy hanging down from the bed posts. John dropped his bag and slowly walked around the room, looking around and padding through the large white french doors which led to the balcony. The view was brilliant, overlooking a park and a small lake, it was gorgeous. John ran a hand through his hair and walked back inside the suite, letting his eyes roam over everything once more before letting them fall on another envelope that was resting on the bed. Quickly he walked over to the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the next letter. 

_“My John,_

_Hope you like the room. I miss you._

_Paris is so beautiful this time of year, isn’t it? Makes me think of you, the sunsets especially. They start out soft and then end with a fantastic array of colors, crescendoing into each other. That’s how you make me feel, John. You walked into my life and captivated me from the minute I saw you. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I was. People call me cold, and unfeeling, but there is no denying the love that I feel for you. You mean everything to me and I will die before I let anything ever happen to you. You’re my John._

_In the closet there is a suit hanging and the shoes to match should be in there as well. I picked the suit out myself, I have no doubt in my mind that you will look completely stunning in it. Please relax a little, take a nice hot shower, and meet me on the 3rd tier of the Eiffel tower no later than 7 o’clock._

_I’ll be waiting._

_Your Sherlock”_

John’s heart was in his throat as he re-read the note again, he had a stupid grin on his face and the sudden strange urge to squee, but John Watson did not squee. No he did NOT. Okay maybe a little. He stood and placed the letter on the bed side table before going off in the direction of the bathroom for that hot shower.

\----------  
2 hours later and John was finishing getting dressed, he blow dried his hair and put some product in it, messing it up a little just how he knew Sherlock liked, and sprayed his cologne on- 2 spritz’, and one below on Big Ben. Less is more. (tell that to the Americans, they sprayed the stuff on with a cropduster)- and now was finishing tying his tie. The suit was beautiful, Westwood, jet black with a crisp white button down and a dark blue tie. The shoes were definitely European, they shone like shiny new pennies after he finished tying them up. John smiled at himself in the mirror as he slipped his suit jacket on, thinking he actually did look rather dashing. He grabbed his phone, wallet and watch off of the desk and slipped 2 of the 3 into his pockets, buckling his watch on his wrist as he left the room. The entire drive to the Eiffel Tower, John could think of nothing but Sherlock. He hadn’t seen the man all day and he missed him more than anything. He fiddled with his hands in his lap and allowed himself a small smile, knowing he would see Sherlock soon and be able to have his arms around him again. 

Once he arrived at the Eiffel Tower, he gave Etien a smile from the backseat before he slipped out and made his way toward the giant structure. He was instantly mesmerized by it’s beauty; tall and adorned with lights, it shone a beautiful shade of gold in the night sky, the grounds that surrounded it were all groomed to perfection and parisians were laying around on blankets with their lovers sipping wine and speaking softly to each other. It really was a romantic sight. John made his way over to the ticket counter and purchased one, finding it funny that Sherlock must have overlooked this small detail, before going toward the lift and taking it up to the third tier. He was puzzelled by the fact that he was the only one around when he stepped off the lift, and he glanced around a little before slowly walking around one of the structure beams. Sherlock was standing with his back to John, the moonlight hitting his form and giving his dark suit a kind of sheen that seemed almost ethereal, the wind was slightly blowing his raven curls as he looked out onto the city. John smiled softly before speaking.

“When you asked me to meet you in Paris, I had no idea I would be spending the day alone.”

Sherlock slowly turned around and let his eyes land on John, taking in the sight of him in the suit, the way he styled his hair, the soft smile on his lips. He slowly walked towards him until they were only a foot apart. 

“One cannot reserve an entire tier of the Eiffel tower and not have to deal with people about it,” He smiled, reaching out and gently cupping John’s cheek, “I’ve been preparing for this all day.”

John blushed and leaned into Sherlock’s caress, bringing his own hand up and resting it on his chest, “Yes, do tell me, how does one reserve an entire tier of an international landmark all for himself? And why? ...Sherlock what is all this?” John looked up at Sherlock with big eyes.

Sherlock ran his thumb across John’s cheek softly, “When one’s brother is the British Government, you’ll find that almost anything is possible...,” he trailed off before stepping a little closer to John, his tone going serious, “John. You are...the most extraordinary thing that has ever happened to me.” John swallowed lightly as he felt his pulse quicken. Sherlock continued, “I’ve never felt attached to anyone before the way I am attached to you. You...complete me. In every way. I find it most difficult to go through the day alone when you are at work, I didn’t know how large of a part of my heart that you had consumed until the other day when you didn’t come back at 6 like you normally do.” John remembers this occasion and Sherlock’s resulting freakout AND the amazing angsty sex that he was rewarded with afterwards very well, “ I was so worried something had happened to you. Do you understand how much you mean to me? Do you understand that I would physically give everything I have to make sure that you were safe?” Sherlock paused and stepped back from John before slowly going down on one knee and looking up at him with big vulnerable eyes. John’s own eyes widened and his heart leapt into his throat. Sherlock’s voice had grown soft, “John Hamish Watson...I love you more than anything in the world and I cannot see myself without you by my side anytime in the future. It would be my honor to be your husband. Will you marry me?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet ring box, opening it and presenting John with a gleaming platinum band. John was speechless, his mouth agape and his eyes huge, he wondered what he must look like and quickly closed his mouth, trying to speak but finding he didn’t really have a voice, “S-sherlock....I...”

Sherlock was looking up at him with the most vulnerable and open expression John had ever seen. It was so out of character for him; this romanticism and sentiment. He truly was amazed. John cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes, which were most decidedly NOT blurring up and definitely not brimming with tears, before giving Sherlock a soft nod, grinning down at him and letting out a half sob/laugh.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you plonker.”

Sherlock grinned up at John before taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto John’s finger; a perfect fit. He quickly stood and took John into his arms, embracing him tightly and laughing, he had never felt this overwhelmed with emotions before in his life. John was his. He was going to marry him. Sherlock pulled back a little and took John’s face into his hands before bringing their lips together in a bruising passionate kiss, all of the happiness and excitement of the moment pouring out as their lips moved against each other. John pulled back and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.

“I don’t think this night could be any more perfect..”

Sherlock smiled softly and took John’s hand, leading him over to the ledge and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close as they both looked out over the city.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” He whispered softly into John’s ear, gently kissing his earlobe.

“It is...I’m going to miss it when we go back to London..” John’s voice was soft as he leaned into  
Sherlock’s touch.

“Oh John,” Sherlock smiled against him, _**“We’ll always have Paris.”**_

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The quote "We'll always have Paris" comes from the movie Casablanca. If you haven't seen it, see it. x


End file.
